


I Know 'Cause I Was There

by Sunjinjo



Series: Wings, Scales, Nightingales [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunjinjo/pseuds/Sunjinjo
Summary: The angel beamed. “It’s as if everything around us is relieved to have another day. Another chance. Not just the people, the very world itself.”Crowley’s eyes crinkled behind his dark glasses. “I think I know what you mean.”What happened during the credits, after the audience said goodnight but before our ineffable duo did.





	I Know 'Cause I Was There

“Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

A brief considering look, a near-instant smile and gleeful little wiggle. “Temptation accomplished!”

Two figures rose from a park bench in London, the day the Earth’s hourglass had been turned over and given another go. Then, without any further temptation or even plain suggestion required, the more angelically inclined of the two spoke up: “What about the Ritz? I believe a table for two has just miraculously come free!”

The demon looked over, pleasantly surprised. “Ahh!”

Toasts were had, smiles were shared, and two old friends slipped right back into old habits and playful banter as if this _wasn’t_ their beloved planet’s first day on impossibly bought overtime, every entity in Heaven and Hell feverishly scrambling for any rhyme or reason to it all, and finding none whatsoever. In that way, the angelic and demonic hosts seemed almost human – and the duo sipping champagne on Earth, without a care in the world, did a rather fine job at approaching the contented mirth of a higher power altogether. It was all quite ineffable, really.

 

_That certain night  
The night we met  
There was magic abroad in the air  
There were angels dining at the Ritz  
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. _

 

After all that’d happened, their respective mad dashes to Lower Tadfield, out of Armageddon and then down from Upstairs and up from Downstairs, it was rather easy to relax and completely lose track of time now. The angel and demon ended up slipping straight from their extended lunch and even more extended drinking into dinner, making the most of their miraculous table. There was more toasting; to bookshops and beloved cars, to sushi and the stars, to their dual little victories over Heaven and Hell. As they spoke of matters great and small, their gestures grew ever grander, and Aziraphale beamed and Crowley smiled, wider and more carefree than they would have done a day or even a decade before. The demon let the angel recommend him dishes he simply had to try and indulged in a little more gluttony than he otherwise would have. A good drink required a fine meal to go with it, after all, and he couldn’t think of a finer occasion to celebrate.

 

_I may be right  
I may be wrong  
But I’m perfectly willing to swear  
That when you turned and smiled at me  
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. _

 

The hours slid by like the various people coming and going around them, and equally unnoticed. Before either of them knew it, the world beyond the great windows was darkening, the light of lamps and candles an array of flickering, glittering gold against the dimming room and the summer sky’s rippling purple velvet.

The duo halted their avid discussion as they were approached by a very polite but very unrelenting waiter, who politely but relentlessly informed them that surely they had other places to be other than at the last occupied table in the restaurant, and Crowley and Aziraphale glanced past one another and chuckled, and even the demon decided on being merciful for now. They both tipped generously. Crowley impulsively decided to transfer a rather greater amount of money than required directly to the man’s account, an amount that’d be hard to explain – just numbers, really, barely counted as a miracle. What really counted was what the man would do with that amount once he realized, and that would be entirely his own choice. Crowley found he still really liked giving people choices, even after all this time, and the realization made him smile.

 

_The streets of town were paved with stars…_

 

When they stepped outside, the world sparkled.

At some point while they’d been inside, sequestered away in their little bubble of earthly delights, it must’ve rained, however inperceptively – a light summer spray, leaving the heavens cloudless and the world shiny and cool, reflecting every street lamp, every glimmering light in every window, with the sense as though it’d all just taken its first breath after a long time in a stuffy closet. Everything felt newer than it’d been at Creation.

Aziraphale breathed deeply as well, his entire face lighting up with more than just tipsiness. “Crowley,” he spoke, suddenly reverent. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“That immense… that crystal clear… well, I do believe it’s _relief_ , my dear.” The angel beamed. “It’s as if everything around us is relieved to have another day. Another chance. Not just the people, the very world itself.”

Crowley’s eyes crinkled behind his dark glasses. “I think I know what you mean.”

Aziraphale nudged him companionably. “Let me walk you back to the square. I quite fancy a stroll.” Neither of them had transport; the hosts of Heaven and Hell had unceremoniously dumped them back into the streets at random, and they’d met up at the agreed-upon spot in Berkeley Square. Crowley supposed it was only fair to saunter back there now. He nodded, and grinned at the radiant smile this elicited from his companion. “It’s good to see you so happy, angel.”

“Dear boy, I got freshly out of Hell just this morning.”

“Out of Heaven, too. And permanently.”

“And I couldn’t be happier about it, don’t you fret. The company down here is _much_ better.” Another, positively blinding smile of angelic joy, and Crowley smirked. “And don’t you forget it.”

The hour was late, but that never stopped London. Berkeley Street was still lively, and the duo relished the human activity around them. Eventually, they couldn’t help but extend their influences a bit. Aziraphale bested Crowley to the group of young tourists egging eachother on to enter a casino, making them reconsider and save their money for a better occasion. In turn, Crowley glanced through the window of a nearby restaurant and promptly spoiled the foie gras and veal on the plates of the dining couple there, to Aziraphale’s amusement. “I knew you had a heart where it came to Earth’s creatures, dear.”

“I spoiled their entire stock, they’ll have to order it all over again. I just created more demand.”

“No need to pretend,” the angel spoke softly. “No one’s keeping track.”

And wasn’t that a heady thing indeed. Crowley thoughtfully closed his mouth, and promptly decided to jam all three ATMs they passed on the street’s corner with an upwards snap of his fingers, just to deal with the unfamiliar feeling. Aziraphale stifled a laugh, miracled very unseasonal white blossoms into the tree right next to the machines with a downwards gesture of his own, and then lowered his hand even further as his fingers fizzled out. They entwined with Crowley’s, and for a moment the demon went very still. Then he smiled ever so slightly, his golden eyes shimmering through his dark lenses, and gave a gentle squeeze.

 

_…It was such a romantic affair_

 

Before, any physical contact between them had been mostly accidental, and they’d each pulled back quickly whenever it had occurred. It’d always seemed as though the glare of Heaven and the burn of Hell had echoed in their respective touches; though that might just have been anticipation of what was to come should they keep up the contact, born out of worry for both themselves and one another. Either way, now that Upstairs and Downstairs had pulled away from both of them, all that remained was… them. A little bit good, a bit of a bastard. The angel that did not judge, and the demon that always offered a choice. Their divine and demonic energies did dance across their skin, but didn’t lead to any pain in the other; only quiet wonder.

 

_And as we kissed  
And said goodnight_

 

Berkeley Square opened up ahead of them, stately buildings and tall trees rising into the evening sky. They should each be able to miraculously divert unwitting cab drivers here; departure surely was imminent now. But both angel and demon found their hands still linked, and their stroll continuing into the square proper, the shadow of the trees enveloping them like a cocoon.

“You must want to get back to the bookshop,” Crowley suggested, “see for yourself everything’s in order. I should see if the lad made any… adjustments to the car, myself.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale smiled quietly. “Yes, we should. But slow down a moment, my dear. You’re going a bit too fast for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Crowley gave a crooked smirk as Aziraphale slowed and he turned to face him. As they came to a joint standstill under the trees, the demon caught the briefest glimpse of shining eyes, just before the angel leant in and touched their lips together.

 

_…A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._

 

And although the demon’s heart leapt and performed a weightless, breathless and not-necessarily-good little dance in his chest, Crowley was not surprised. What he felt now was an inordinate amount of searing, bubbling joy, yes, but mostly _pride_ – pride in Aziraphale acting on his newfound freedom this soon, after centuries of leaving his true wishes glittering in his eyes, unspoken. The demon’s smirk widened into a true smile, and he felt his angel responding in kind as he tightened his grip on his hand, wrapping the other around Crowley’s waist, tugging him closer ever so softly. Crowley reached up and gently cupped the angel’s cheek, letting go of a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding.

The kiss felt like a homecoming to a place neither of them had ever left. It was an extension of something they’d had all along. Heaven and Hell had never stood between them as firmly as they’d thought. And wasn’t that the sweetest defiance of all?

A nightingale really did sing somewhere in the branches above them. Neither of them heard it over the song of their corporeal hearts and the feel of the other in their arms.

In the end their foreheads touched and their breath mingled, glinting grey eyes locked to fierce yellow ones, six thousand years of affection and care passing between them unspoken. There was no need to speak of these things. Both of them knew. They’d always known, ever since an angel had given away his divine weapon and a demon had smiled at him more warmly than anyone in Heaven had ever done.

Neither of them wanted to move away.

Inevitably, both of them eventually did. But both were smiling, and both knew this was a wholly new kind of departure – one that held a wholly new promise. Quiet, fond words passed under the shadow of the trees.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, angel.”

It truly was the first night of the rest of their lives.

 

_I know ‘cause I was there,  
That night in Berkeley Square. _

**Author's Note:**

> Love is patient, love is kind. Still, Crowley is wicked proud of the angel for making the ‘first move’ the very day he’s freed from Heaven’s watchful eyes ^^


End file.
